


This is not Pretty Woman (Or maybe it is)

by Sijglind



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Crossdressing Kink, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Panty Kink, Prostitute Jared Padalecki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sijglind/pseuds/Sijglind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After hours, Jensen invites Jared to his office for a bit of fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is not Pretty Woman (Or maybe it is)

The building is one of those sleek, looming, 70-floors glass buildings typical for New York’s skyline; all twice-a-week-polished surfaces reflecting the city’s lights and huge, bold, pretentious brass letters shouting the company’s name at the rest of the world.

 _Ackles International_ , this one reads in futuristic capital letters.

Jared tips his head back, looks at the building stretching towards the sky. Most of the lights are still on, but there’s barely anyone still there, the offices he can make out are empty. And there, at the very top, on the 70th floor, is someone waiting for him. Jared shudders, and it has nothing to do with the chill of a late autumn night.

He feels self-conscious in his baggy pants and hoodie when he pushes the glass doors open. The marble floor is polished, too, of course, and the gummy soles of his sneakers squeak slightly when he walks up to the reception. There’s a night doorman waiting behind the counter, his dark blue uniform pressed and perfectly fitting. He doesn’t offer a smile, but neither does he frown at Jared, despite the fact that Jared looks as out of place here as a knitting grandma in a Victoria’s Secret ad.

“Um, I’m here to see Mr. Ackles,” Jared ventures and keeps himself from biting his bottom lip.

“Name?” the doorman asks and picks up the phone, hand hovering over one of the many buttons on the keypad.

“Jared,” he says and then hastily adds, “Mr. Ackles is expecting me.”

“Last name?”

Jared shakes his head and fidgets, his palms feeling clammy against the counter’s smooth and cold marble surface. “Just Jared, he’ll know.”

This time the doorman does react, raises an eyebrow skeptically, but Jared presses his mouth shut and stares back defiantly until the doorman—Hodges, his name tag reads—sighs and makes the call.

“Mr. Ackles, this is Hodges from the front desk—Yes, he’s here—Yes, I’ll send him up—Thank you, have a good night.”

It takes a lot, but Jared refrains from smiling too triumphantly. Hodges hangs up the phone, his face having returned to its professionally expressionless setting, and points at the corridor leading away from the lobby with its several sets of gleaming elevator doors opposite of one another.

“It’s the one at the back on the left, leads right up to the topmost floors. Have a good night.”

Jared nods and mumbles out a “you, too” while he walks towards the elevators, ignoring that his hands are slightly shaking as he presses the button. He doesn’t have to wait long until the elevator announces its arrival with a ding and the doors slide open smoothly and silently, giving way to its classy, light wood paneled interior. A deep breath and Jared steps inside, peering up at the camera in one of the ceiling’s corners. He wonders if Hodges is watching him right now. Most likely, he is.

The trip upstairs doesn’t take long, especially with how nervous Jared is.

“You’re acting like a fucking amateur,” he scolds himself. “This is not the first time, so keep it together!”

To be fair, it’s the first time that one of his johns has asked him to come to his workplace, but it’s not the first time that he’s meeting up with Ackles. Oh no, it isn’t. Ackles. The name alone makes him feel heat in his cheeks and his cock twitch in interest. Kinda pathetic, but what can you do.

The man’s a fucking Adonis. No, scratch that, he’s a sex god from the high heavens; all perfect face and amazing body and whiskey-smooth voice. He’s America’s most popular bachelor: smart, successful, rich, and—most importantly—hot as all hell. The number one subject of the gossip rags. Everybody wants a piece of Jensen fucking Ackles.

And Jared is one of the few who actually do. And even if it’s only for a few nights every week, he doesn’t care, because Ackles is one of those clients who make the pain that sometimes comes with his job fucking worth it. Not only because the guy’s hot enough to be in a CK ad, or because he pays three months of Jared’s rent every time they meet, but because Jensen actually knows what he’s doing.

He might be somewhat in the closet—in the way that none of the magazines know anything about his private life—but he’s none of those uptight, married businessmen who call Jared every two months to get rid of their blue balls because their trophy wife doesn’t do it for them. Those meetups mostly include a lot of sense- and skill-less rutting on their part and some fake moaning and dirty talk à la ‘oh yeah, give it to me, you beast’ on Jared’s.

The _ding_ of the elevator catches Jared by surprise and he hastily slips out of doors to find himself in another, dimly-lit lobby. It’s wide and open-spaced with expensive-looking gray carpet and several arrangements of leather sofas and armchairs, sleek and of subtle elegance. For a moment, Jared’s attention is caught by the view; all around him glass walls show New York’s lit skyline by night, the skyscrapers trying to impress with their immense height and steal each other the show. Even after years of living here it’s still impressive.

But Jared doesn’t linger and instead looks around to find Jensen’s office. There’s an empty desk, the lamp still switched on to give the huge room at least some light, and behind it a frosted glass wall, the words _Jensen R. Ackles, CEO_ on the door. It’s slightly ajar, and Jared takes a last fortifying breath before he walks towards it.

This is business, he reminds himself. No matter that Jensen is hot as hell and everything Jared’s dreams are made of, it’s business and nothing more.

“Mr. Ackles?” Jared calls and pushes the door open slightly, finds himself in a large office, the glass desk at its center dominating the room. It’s empty. For a second, Jared fears he’s misunderstood something, but then light pouring out from under a door at the room’s right wall catches his attention.

“Just a sec,” Jensen calls, his voice muffled through the wood. “Go make yourself comfortable.”

Jared nods, and then remembers that Jensen can’t see him, calls “yes,” back and hopes he’s been heard.

Hesitantly, he walks into the room completely and closes the door behind himself, looks around. Behind the desk are more floor-to-ceiling windows, offering an uninterrupted view. At his left, there’s another sofa with two armchairs opposite of it, standing around a coffee table, next to it a cupboard with different bottles on top of it, several crystal glasses and a whiskey pitcher. It’s all classy and subtly elegant, how you’d expect from the CEO of one of the US’ most successful companies.

Jared loses no time.

He takes off his backpack and quickly slips out of his sneakers and socks, his baggy jeans following right after. Next is the hoodie. He takes the heels from his backpack and puts them on, checks his appearance in a large mirror half hidden next to a book shelf.

His skirt is a bit creased, since he put it on under his pants to safe time, but he manages to smooth the worst. Reties the knot of his blouse so that it’s a bit higher, showing off most of his stomach, but hiding his chest and nipples. Still, the fabric is so thin he can just make out the darker circles of his nipples.

Checking that Jensen hasn’t come back from the bathroom yet, Jared quickly pinches them through the fabric, makes them pebble and press up against the blouse. His hair looks alright, maybe a bit tousled, but not too badly, and there’s no point in trying to get it under control anyway, since Jensen takes great pleasure from tangling his hand in it. Just a bit of lip gloss and Jared’s ready to go.

As if he’s heard his cue, Jensen chooses the exact moment to emerge from the bathroom, and Jared nearly does a double take.

Damn, but Jensen looks delicious. So far, he’s only seen him in his penthouse, barefooted, wearing jeans or sweatpants and faded t-shirts. Jensen is a laid-back guy, usually, and Jared’s only ever seen him wearing a suit on the glossy covers of magazines, and there’s almost nothing that can surpass a _naked_ Jensen Ackles anyway, but, damn, Jensen in a suit does come pretty close.

Even without his suit jacket and with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looks the part of a billionaire CEO. His whole stance and demeanor screams of money, composure and supremacy.

Damn.

“Damn,” someone says, and for a second, Jared thinks he’s actually spoken out loud, but then he realizes it was Jensen. Jensen, who’s standing there, looking Jared up and down, eyes dark, hand twitching as if he wants to touch.

Jared shudders, feels Jensen’s eyes on him like a physical touch, caressing his skin from his cheek down to his neck, to his chest and exposed stomach, the red waistband of the plaid skirt, which does nothing to hide Jared’s growing hard-on, to his naked legs, following them all the way down to the red high heels.

Jared feels a blush spreading, heating up his neck and cheeks, but he doesn’t care. He takes a step towards Jensen, cocks his hip and smiles, makes his dimples pop.

“Hello, Mr. Ackles,” he says, sultry, sweet, and watches those plush lips part on an inhale.

Jensen chuckles, crosses the rest of the distance between them and puts his hands on Jared’s hips, pulls him close, showing Jared that he’s not the only one being already excited. Jared barely manages to stifle a moan when he feels Jensen’s cock, hard and hot, pressing against his through two layers of fabric.

Jensen loses no time and leans in, his lips finding the crook of Jared’s neck to lick and kiss a stripe up towards his ear. He closes his teeth around the lobe, makes Jared shudder against him.

“I have to say, you look amazing in this outfit,” he breathes against Jared’s ear, hot air delicious, making a shudder of pleasure chase down Jared’s spine.

Jared tilts his head to the side, bares his throat for Jensen, and strokes his hands down his back, humming when he feels the soft silk of Jensen’s vest against his palm, the muscles beneath moving when Jensen lets his hands slide around Jared’s hips to his ass, squeezing.

“Right back at you, Mr. CEO,” Jared says, his breath hitching at the end when Jensen starts sucking his neck.

“What did I say about hickies,” he scolds without heat, which makes Jensen only suck harder, it seems. Not that Jared has anything against Jensen marking him up—firstly, because Jensen pays three months worth of rent for one night so that Jared doesn’t have to meet anybody else until the hickies are long faded, and secondly, because Jensen marking him up, claiming him, leaving all these little bruises all over Jared for everyone to see, turns him on like barely anything else. Because it’s Jensen, hot, smart, beautiful, nice, laid-back, _absolutely perfect_ Jensen. Because Jared wants nothing more than truly belong to Jensen, without the money standing between them.

Of course, there’s a line you shouldn’t cross in this business, everyone will tell you that; don’t get fucking feelings involved. But of course, Jared’s stupid heart had to go ahead and do it, and tiny crush became more when he found out that big, bad CEO Ackles is a fucking cool guy, with an amazing smile, who likes to drink beer and watch baseball in his free time and cooks amazing breakfast and sometimes falls asleep with his legs hanging off the sofa.

Figures. It would’ve been better if Jensen turned out to be an asshole. But instead he’s sweet and kind and cooks breakfast for the hooker.

And Jared’s a fucking masochist for not ending this thing when he felt the first butterflies in his stomach when he woke up the first time to see Jensen smiling at him with sleep still clinging to his eyes.

But hell, Jared will take what he can get, especially when Jensen gets all possessive and attacks his neck with a vengeance, sucking and biting bruises into his skin, making Jared gasp and groan and shudder. He can already feel the thin fabric of his panties stick to the head of his cock, damp with pre-come.

Jared thrusts his hips a bit, lets Jensen shove one of his legs between his so he can ride Jensen’s thigh, green eyes glazed and hungry with lust when Jensen leans back a bit to look at his work, then Jared’s face as he rubs up against Jensen’s leg like a horny teenager, groaning with each thrust.

“Beautiful,” Jensen whispers, deep voice hoarse with his arousal, and Jared chuckles.

“I’m gonna get them dirty,” he half-apologizes, because even if he wanted to, he couldn’t stop, not with the way Jensen is pulling him in with each of his thrusts, hands on Jared’s ass, squeezing his cheeks and kneading them.

Jensen mouths along Jared’s jawline, flicks his tongue over the mole on his chin before kissing it softly.

“My dry cleaner’s very discreet, don’t worry.”

With his arms still around Jared, Jensen pushes him backwards. Jared can’t see where they’re going, doesn’t really care anyway, until he feels the cold, hard glass against his back. Jensen’s pressing up against him, standing between Jared’s spread legs, hands running up and down his sides, sending delicious currents of electricity along Jared’s spine, his palms hot like a brand against Jared’s skin. Fingers work they way over the thin blouse, squeeze hard nipples before sliding lower, beneath the fabric, pushing it up to expose Jared’s chest to the cold air. He shudders slightly, and then Jensen’s mouth closes around one nipple, incredibly hot, suckling before letting go, teeth nipping at sensitive skin. Jared throws his head back, feels it hitting the window, but he doesn’t really care, not when one of Jensen’s hands slides lower and lower, over the skirt, to his thigh, back of his fingers barely touching his skin, tickling slightly as the hand makes its way up between his legs, skims over the flimsy material of Jared’s panties.

“So pretty,” Jensen mumbles, licks over Jared’s nipple and blows softly on it after. His hand is barely touching Jared’s cock, and it’s torture, fucking torture.

“Freaking sadist,” Jared says, voice cracking as a thumb softly caresses the head of his cock, withdraws right after.

“You love it,” Jensen says, and Jared doesn’t answer, because it’s truer than Jensen might think, groans instead when Jensen’s hand dips beneath the panties’ waistband to close around Jared’s cock and squeeze slightly. Jared chokes out a groan, listens to Jensen’s chuckle when he buries his head in the crook of Jensen’s neck, inhales the expensive cologne.

“You know what I’m gonna do to you?” Voice a deep, deep purr of satisfaction. In comparison, Jared’s is high-pitched and breathless already, and he’s almost angry that Jensen can do that, make him almost break apart with this little.

Mouth on his neck again, hot breath caressing his skin, making goosebumps spread down his whole arm.

“I’m gonna turn you around and fuck you right here, right against this window.”

A needy groan. The hand slips lower, over his perineum towards the crease of his ass, pushing between the cheeks, circling Jared’s hole, making his breath hitch. Jensen’s free hand tangles in Jared’s hair, pulls his head back and makes him look at Jensen. His cheeks are slightly flushed, freckles in stark contrast to the pink skin, his lips are wet and parted, his eyes so dark there’s barely any green left, and they stare right at Jared’s as Jensen goes on, “I’m gonna make you scream my name, gonna fill you up and make you mine right here in my office. Gonna make you come all over the window so that the cleaning lady knows what we did when she cleans it up tomorrow morning.”

Jared shudders. It sounds so forbidden, and he feels almost bad for the poor woman, but it’s also fucking hot, being fucked against the huge windows, in plain sight from the skyscraper opposite. If someone happens to be still there, some guy doing overtime in his office or cleaning staff, they’re in for a surprise.

Jensen’s finger pushes in, and his breath hitches.

“Already prepped yourself for me, Jay?”

Jared nods, stares at Jensen’s lips as they say his name. He wants to kiss them, bite them, make them slick and red and bruise them a bit. They haven’t kissed, of course, but he wants to, really wants to.

A second finger pushes inside, and Jared groans, long and drawn-out, lets his head fall back against the window. His legs are shaking and if it weren’t for Jensen he’d be already lying on the floor, a trembling mess.

Jensen groans, scissors his fingers, composure crumbling slowly. Jared can feel his breath on his face, opens his eyes to see Jensen stare at him with unblinking, heavy-lidded eyes.

“Jay,” he says, and there’s a tremor to his voice, small, but undeniably there. “Jay, ‘m sorry, but I can’t—”

Jared wants to protest, because obviously, Jensen can, Jared knows he can, and really good at that, and if Jensen dares to back off now he’s going to kick his fucking ass.

But Jensen doesn’t withdraw. Instead he leans in, presses his mouth to Jared’s, pushes his tongue between Jared’s lips, curls it around his. Jared makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but he doesn’t turn his head away, instead opens his mouth further, welcomes Jensen’s tongue, chases it when it withdraws. Jensen’s mouth is hot and tastes divine, simply perfect, and he can’t get enough, winds his arms around Jensen’s neck and pushes forward into the kiss, unwilling to let go.

Jensen groans, breaks the kiss, but stays close, both of them sharing air, their lips slick with spit and bruised from kissing.

“Make me fucking crazy,” Jensen says and curls his fingers inside Jared, makes him clench around his fingers and Jared’s back arch with the sensation. “With your fucking dimples and your fucking smile, and your perfect ass. Wanna make you mine, wanna mark you up and never let you go. Jesus, fuck!”

“Yes, yes, do it, please,” Jared begs without shame, grinding down onto Jensen’s fingers as he moves them in and out, speeding up. It’s like he’s flipped a switch, because Jensen honest-to-god _growls_ and pulls his fingers out quickly, makes Jared wince a bit, but he doesn’t even seem to notice because then he has Jared turned around and pressed up against the window, cheek against the cold glass, ass pushed back against Jensen’s crotch.

“Tell me, Jay,” Jensen says breathlessly, his hand pushing between them to pull down his zipper. “Tell me how you fucked yourself open for me before you came here. C’mon, tell me.”

Jared swallows, listens to the condom wrapper being ripped open, to Jensen’s quick, harsh breathing as he rolls it on.

“C’mon.”

His skirt is pushed up, bunching up at the small of his back. Jensen pulls down the panties, nearly rips them in half with his eagerness. His hands are hot as they spread Jared’s asscheeks and Jared groans when he feels the head of Jensen’s cock press against his hole, but Jensen doesn’t push inside yet, stays still, waits.

“Tell me,” he grinds out, deep and commanding, despite how breathless his voice is.

“Was thinking about you,” Jared chokes out and listens to Jensen make a helpless, needy sound. He can feel him pushing in, the blunt pressure of his cock, and Jared groans, hands uselessly sliding over the glass as he tries to find enough leverage to push back.

“Go on,” Jensen orders as he slowly pushes in until Jared can feel his hipbones against his asscheeks.

“The whole time thinking about you, about what you’d do to me when I get here,” Jared goes on, voice quivering. Jensen doesn’t move, and Jared can hear him taking deep breaths, hands shaking slightly where they’re holding Jared’s hips.

“I imagined it were your fingers fucking me open, and then your cock.”

Jensen groans, starts moving his hips in short, shallow thrusts, and Jared pushes back, wants more. Slowing down slightly, Jensen pulls out until only the head of his cock is still inside Jared, and then he pushes back in with a sharp, deep thrust that pushes Jared up against the window, stealing the air from his lungs, making the window fog.

“Wanted it so badly. Always want it. Want you.”

Jensen is speeding up his thrusts and wraps his arms around Jared’s middle, pulls him up against his chest and then pushes forward, so that Jared is almost upright against the windows, on perfect display to whomever happens to take a look at the offices of the Ackles building. Jensen’s mouth is less than an inch away from the back of Jared’s neck, hot puffs of air making the fine hair there stand on end. Jared reaches back, wraps his hand around Jensen’s nape and turns his head towards him. The kiss is slightly awkward, with Jared barely avoiding breaking his neck. It’s not even a real kiss, more like both of them pressing their open mouths together and breathing the same air, tongues flicking out to get a taste, but it’s still fucking perfect.

Jensen’s thrusting harder and faster, pounding Jared’s prostrate on every other thrust, making him shudder and groan. He’s pressed tightly against Jensen’s chest, and that and the window are the only things still holding him up. His feet are slipping in the heels, his knees are weak, his legs are shaking, but it doesn’t matter, because Jensen’s holding him up, pulling him back into his thrusts. One of his hands lets go of Jared’s side, slides down to close around Jared’s cock and jerk him in rhythm with his thrusts. Jared keens, arches his back.

“C’mon,” Jensen pants, squeezing Jared’s cock, thumbing the slit, makes Jared squirm. “Let me hear your voice, baby, c’mon, Jay.”

Jensen changes the angle of his thrusts, hits Jared’s prostrate nearly every time he pushes in. Jared lets his head fall back onto Jensen’s shoulder, his mouth falls open as he gets louder, close to screaming. His chest is slick with sweat by now, and he’s sliding on the window, hands slipping when he tries to push back.

“Yeah, that’s it, Jay, that’s it, god, feels so good.”

“Yes,” Jared chokes out, “yes, feels so good. You inside me, love it, please, Jensen, please.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but Jensen does, speeds up his thrusts, drives him forward with the force of them, into his hand, makes him fuck Jensen’s hand while Jensen fucks him.

He feels his orgasm building, hot in his abdomen, taking over his body, heat spreading throughout, electric charges chasing up and down his spine, exploding behind his eyelids, toes curling in his heels, body going rigid, clenching around Jensen, who groans and mumbles something Jared doesn’t understand because he’s too far away, too high, riding his orgasm, Jensen still thrusting inside him when Jared spills over his hand and coats the perfectly cleaned windows with his come.

He slumps against the window, Jensen holding him up and keeping him from collapsing to the ground, thrusting a couple more times until he follows over the edge, squeezing Jared to his chest as he goes rigid whit a shout.

When Jensen slumps against him, Jared can’t hold them both up, and they slide to the ground, Jensen finding a last bit of strength inside him and pulling Jared back so they can lay down on the plush, expensive carpet. He gets rid of the condom quickly, throws it in the general direction of the trash can and sighs deeply.

Jensen’s arm is around Jared’s shoulders, holding him against Jensen’s side, and Jared, now a bit cold, cuddles up against him. Jensen’s drawing soothing patterns on his shoulder and down his arm, fingertips softly caressing. It feels good, really good, and Jared’s still riding the high of the afterglow, enjoying being so close to Jensen, feeling his heat. He pushes his face into the crook of Jensen’s neck and presses a kiss there, tasting sweat and something purely Jensen.

Jensen hums, and Jared feels it against his lips, smiles.

“You alright?” he wants to know and Jared laughs softly, pushing a hand beneath Jensen’s untucked shirt, playing with the soft trail of hair beneath his belly button.

“More than. And you?”

Jensen takes a bit too long to answer. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Jared frowns, props himself up on his elbow so he can look at Jensen properly. Jensen tries smiling at him, but it comes out all wrong. Jared frowns, reaches out for Jensen, puts his hand on his cheek. Jared turns his head into Jared’s palm, puts a kiss there. It makes Jared smile to feel Jensen’s soft lips against his skin, reminds him of their kisses, perfect and wonderful, blowing his mind. He’d like to do it again, lean down and cover Jensen’s mouth with his own, feels those soft, plush lips against his.

Jensen must have been reading his mind, because he reaches out and hooks a hand around his nape, pulls him down and kisses him, softly. There’s no fierce hunger to it like before, only affection, but it’s strong and sweet and comforting, and Jared never wants to stop. Jensen’s lips are moving languidly against his, tongue flicking out for a taste.

They kiss for some time, Jensen pulling Jared on top of him, arms around his middle, stroking up and down his back. Even though Jared’s straddling Jensen’s hips, their cocks brushing up against each other, it’s not so much sexual as comforting and warm and soft. Like cuddling after sex. Jared hasn’t had that in a long time.

He’d like to have it always.

Jensen pulls back from the kiss, hands trying to smooth Jared’s hair out, but they won’t let him. He looks beautiful like this, cheeks flushed, lips full and red, spit-slick from kissing, tie loosened, collar unbuttoned to show the hollow of his throat, eyes slightly glazed.

It makes Jared’s heart stop for a second, and in his head plays a mantra of _I love yous_ on repeat, making him smile with bliss, cheeks hurting.

“What?”

Jensen’s eyes widen, and Jared realizes that his stupid mouth moved on his own.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers and scrambles off Jensen, his heart beating in his throat, his chest feeling as if iron bands are wrapped around his ribcage, pressing down mercilessly. He wants to hide, sink into the ground and be swallowed by it to never surface again. The room around him blurs and he stumbles clumsily towards his backpack, hands shaking as he looks for his jeans.

“Jared,” Jensen says, but Jared ignores him. He can’t listen to the excuses Jensen will make to end this, the _I’m sorry, but this can’t work_ , the _I don’t feel the same_ , the _You’re a hooker, this isn’t Pretty Woman, Jay_.

He’s fighting with his jeans, awkwardly fumbling while he tries to get them on, when an arm wraps around his middle and pulls him back against a solid chest, a hand closing around his to softly detach it from where it has an iron grip on the denim.

“Shh,” Jensen hushes him. “Breathe, Jay. Breathe for me.”

Jared’s breath hitches uncontrollably, a jumbled mix of hiccups and small sobs, but Jensen keeps on talking, hands softly caressing Jared’s chest and stomach, and Jared gives up, relaxes into the embrace.

“Yes, that’s it,” Jensen says and pulls Jared closer, walks them towards the sofa and sits down without letting go of Jared the whole time, pulling him onto his lap.

For a long moment, neither of them says anything, Jensen’s hands trailing up and down Jared’s back restlessly while Jared holds onto Jensen like his life depends on it, scared he will never see him again if he lets go of the vest clenched in his hands.

Finally, Jensen clears his throat nervously, voice slightly hoarse when he asks, “did you mean it?”

“I,” Jared begins and doesn’t know how to go on. Jensen’s hand twitches where it’s resting on Jared’s hip. He could deny it, Jared knows, could say it was just the afterglow and he didn’t really mean it. Everything could return to normal.

“Yes,” he says instead and listens to Jensen’s breath hitch, his startled inhale, the long exhale of relief.

“Thank god,” Jensen whispers and then his mouth is on Jared’s again, tongue pressing urgently between Jared’s lips, his hands in Jared’s hair, the back of his neck. Jared responds in kind, hands holding on to Jensen’s shoulders with bruising force, but he doesn’t want to let go. Never.

They kiss until there’s no more air and then some more, both gasping when they finally part, but it seems they can’t stay away from one another, because Jared leans in again immediately, sealing his lips over Jensen’s.

“I love you too,” Jensen whispers against Jared’s lips and Jared smiles.

They don’t leave the building until the sun is long up and New York’s streets have returned to their usual, busy state.


End file.
